


He Tastes Like You, Only Sweeter

by dovingbird



Category: American Idol RPF
Genre: Anal, Angst, F/M, M/M, handjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-24
Updated: 2014-01-24
Packaged: 2018-01-09 22:05:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1151331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dovingbird/pseuds/dovingbird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It doesn’t matter that it was inevitable that his relationship with Elise would end. Phil is still desperate for revenge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	He Tastes Like You, Only Sweeter

**Author's Note:**

> So I completely agree with the gentleman who got up one day and said "Kill your darlings," because it's the best way to make character development happen. Pretty sure he was referring to manuscripts, to slaughtering them in the name of editing, but I think it works for characters as well. This, though...this ficlet is pure angst. Pure pain. Tempered with just a spoonful of hotness. I bet you can't guess what song it was inspired by.

She was padding around her apartment in her bathrobe when it went viral.  
  
She wasn't surprised, really. Elise plopped down at her laptop with her piece of toast and absently double-clicked on her YouTube shortcut out of habit. The most interesting videos popped up on the front page, from adorable puppies to some woman showing up on stage with Kristin Chenoweth and outsinging the diva herself, and, more often than not, there were at least some vague tidbits of inspiration for her to pretend to write down.  
  
 _He_ was on her suggested videos today. And of course he was. She could never get away from him, could she? Not really. Not very far, at least.  
  
It was one of those songs that he did at the end of his concerts, something he'd been playing around with arranging on the long hours on a bus, and her eyebrow quirked when she saw the title of the song. "Thnks Fr Th Mmrys" someone had tagged it. Well, they'd tried at the spelling, at least. If anything, she was just shocked that Phil'd decided to step outside his boundaries, that he was giving Usher covers a rest. She didn't even know he knew who Fall Out Boy _was._ They didn't seem quite like his style.  
  
She shouldn't have done it, but she clicked on the video anyway. It buffered pretty quickly at first, and she was allowed to see her ex-boyfriend sway on the stage in front of the microphone, playing a dark sort of acoustic version, the kind he always loved to create. "I'm gonna make you bend and break...say a prayer, but let the good times roll...in case God doesn't show..."  
  
Three months ago. That was when it had ended. It ended as suddenly, as vividly, as it began. A violent fight about some verbal miscommunication, some misunderstanding. Her slapping him across the face. Him grabbing her wrists and slamming her against the wall and screaming his head off. And then her breaking away. Her ending it. Her grabbing her keys and her purse and leaving every damn thing she owned behind, because they were just things, and goddamn it, but she could buy them all again later.  
  
It was amazing how quiet her life was without him.  
  
Did she miss him sometimes? Yes. God, yes, all the fucking time. But she missed his goodness. His charm. His soft voice whispering in her ear as they spooned at night or him making her eggs in the morning or him helping her figure out a tricky chord when she was trying to arrange something. But that was only half the man. And she couldn't have it without the other half, the darker half. And that meant she wouldn't have him at all.  
  
Things weren't a total loss, though. The whole thing had ended up reuniting her with Colton Dixon, and that was the sort of good fortune that a girl didn't give up. He was on the tail end of a break up himself - a shame, she'd always liked Annie, the girl had a sweet smile - and he'd come to a bar for something small, just a quick glass of wine, the night that Elise happened to be performing there with her band. He'd come up to her after the show and they'd embraced and spent the rest of the night at the counter, not even touching their drinks from how fast they were talking and catching up.  
  
She liked Colton, she decided. She always had. Now _that_ was the sweet kind of boy that a girl needed to set her sights on. And she had. They'd had three dates so far, and things looked... _good._ She'd charmed him into a goodnight kiss after their last one and had spent the whole time she was getting ready for bed grinning like an idiot.  
  
She came back to the present suddenly, realized that the video had stopped playing, and frowned at the buffer bar. Damn Internet. She really needed to upgrade. This system was as slow as shit.  
  
Might as well wander down and get the mail, she decided. It might be ten o' clock at night, but she hadn't left the apartment all day and thus hadn't had a chance to check for anything. It'd probably be bills, if anything, but it'd give the video time to load, the Internet time to catch up, and herself time to figure out what to do with the rest of her relaxing evening.  
  
She popped down to the mailboxes in the lobby of her apartment building and opened hers. Skimmed the things carefully. Bill. Junk mail. Credit card. Junk mail. Bill.  
  
...not a bill.  
  
She wrinkled her brow as she squeezed the little container, wrapped in brown paper. Weird. It was addressed to her, but there was no return address, no clue of who sent this to her. It was around the size of a CD case, she decided.  
  
She distantly remembered a promise Colton had made her, that he'd send her his latest demo CD before he sent it to anyone else, and her heart took off like a skipping child. She ran all the way back upstairs with a smile and threw herself into her computer chair as she peeled the paper away.  
  
A clear CD case, yes, but not a CD. A DVD. Written across the front in large, anonymous Sharpie were the words "PLAY ME," and a silly little heart.  
  
Something else from Colton? She couldn't be sure. But there was something familiar about the handwriting. She just couldn't pick up on it.  
  
She popped the DVD into her CD drive - might as well watch it while Phil's concert video finished buffering - and curled into a little petite ball, resting her chin on her kneecaps.  
  
The DVD spun inside her system. The media player loaded. And then it began to play.  
  
She wasn't sure what it was at first - darkness, with quiet sounds in the background, more like breaths than words - and she squinted in case she was missing something. And then two figures fell into view, collapsing on a bed, one on top of the other, and she cocked her head to the side with a furrowed brow.  
  
And then she saw the cockatiel hair. And the short, messy curls. And her heart stopped dead in her chest.  
  
Phil and Colton kissed like madmen, hands roving everywhere. Phil dug his fingers into Colton's hair. He gave a jerk with his hand, pulling at those soft and silky tresses, and Colton moaned against his lips, turned his head a little further to the side to give him better access to Phil's mouth.  
  
The next second they were sitting up and Colton's hands were moving again, this time racing down Phil's buttoned shirt, and Phil spread his arms wide, let the kid rip the buttons out of their holes and shove the fabric off his shoulders, and he grinned at him, that dark smile that always made Elise wet and scared at the same time. Colton was murmuring something - something she couldn't quite catch - but she heard the slur on his tone, the looseness of his timbre.  
  
He was drunk. Phil had gotten him drunk.  
  
Colton's shirt was next, dragged off of him in one flush movement, and then they were skin-to-skin, Phil dipping his head to dig his teeth into Colton's neck like a vampire. And Colton, God bless him, he tipped his head to the side with a gasp, like a wanton little whore.  
  
She wanted to believe that Colton was fighting this. She could convince herself of that at first, somehow. But then she saw his hand breeze down Phil's chest until he cupped his crotch through his jeans, gave it a squeeze. When Phil bucked against his palm, Colton sure as hell wasn't pulling away.  
  
The pants fell away, one pair thrown so violently that it nearly knocked the camera on its side, and Phil rolled them over so Colton was astride him. He slid those large hands of his to cup the kid's bony hips and press their pelvises together, and then Colton was moving on his own, riding the man like a stallion. He threw his head back just like Elise remembered doing a thousand times over and she wondered for a moment in the midst of the suffocating electric pain if Phil was thinking of her, remembering the way her breasts bounced, how her hair trailed down her back.  
  
"Fuck, Colton," Phil whispered, the words dragged from his lips like he was in pain, and he closed his eyes and grinned widely.  
  
"You like that?" Colton breathed back. He gave a particularly sharp buck of his hips that had Phil's back arching. "You like it, Phil?"  
  
" _Fuck,_ yeah..."  
  
No. No, she wasn't in either of their minds at all.  
  
They rolled again until Phil had Colton under him, and he shoved the kid's hands down, pressed them into the mattress with his own. It was his teeth that pulled Colton's boxers away. And when Phil reached over, pulled a little tub of something out of his end table, Elise's eyes widened.  
  
"You missed this, didn't you?" Phil whispered.  
  
"Yeah..."  
  
He tossed the cap from the tub aside. "Missed me fucking you raw every damn night in that mansion."  
  
"Oh, please-"  
  
Rolled his fingers around inside of it. "Missed feeling my cock inside of you."  
  
"I can't-"  
  
Lifted his shining fingers with a grin. "Missed me making you come."  
  
Holy shit.  
  
Phil barely had to touch Colton's thigh before the kid spread his legs, breathing harder than she'd ever heard him before, and the second that Phil's fingers disappeared out of view Colton arched his spine and cried out. Elise saw the slow, steady movement of Phil's hand in the moonlight, the same gentle twisting motion he'd use when his fingers were inside of her, when he was spreading her wetness every which way, and she pressed her fist to her lips.  
  
Every night. Every fucking night on the show. And they'd never said a damn word.  
  
She didn't know how long it took, Phil sliding his fingers inside of Colton, slicking him up with more lube, but before she was anywhere near ready he was sliding his boxers off and putting on a condom and pumping his hand over his hardness, slowly at first, then quicker, easier, as the lubricant spread. And then he was coaxing Colton to sit up. To stand on his knees with his legs spread just a few inches either side.  
  
To face the camera.  
  
"No," she whispered, her vision starting to blur with tears. "Please, no."  
  
When Phil entered Colton he sucked in a sharp breath. Colton tipped his head back until it was resting on Phil's shoulder, lips parted, eyebrows furrowed. He bared his teeth. Hissed out a quiet sound, almost of pain. And then movement. Slow, careful movement. And then those hisses began to quiet. His brow relaxed. And his lips formed an 'Oh,' accompanied by him singing out a soft moan.  
  
Phil kept his arm wrapped around Colton's slender torso, holding him close, setting the pace. His hand sprawled across Colton's skin, tan to the kid's pale, cupping almost every single one of his ribs. But as they moved - as they _fucked_ \- his other hand came to life. It tickled along Colton's chest, his stomach, until it brushed through the trail of hair leading toward his hardness. Colton's breathing sped up, and she watched the way he began to move his hips, to press back into Phil, to _enable_ this. Phil's hand covered another inch. Colton breathed out a quiet "Yes," and then another, and another. And when Phil's hand wrapped around him he cried out again, bit the tip of his tongue in the way she saw when he was laughing too hard, when he was trying to contain himself before he went off the deep end.  
  
Phil's hand moved in the opposite direction of his hips, but at that same maddening speed, like a metronome, never speeding up, never slowing down. Colton's groans grew louder. He began to breathe quiet curses, words she'd never heard come from his lips. His skin flushed. And then he began to climb.  
  
She'd never been there with him. She'd never seen him naked, much less seen him in the throes of ecstasy. But he was climbing that peak. She saw it all over his face. Heard it everywhere in his voice. And as Colton began to reach that place where the stars aligned and the colors blurred, Phil tilted his head up.  
  
Looked dead in the camera.  
  
And gave her the darkest, most sadistic smirk imaginable.  
  
Colton screamed out a "FUCK!" as he threw his head back again, and she saw the thin white strings of cum just before Phil cupped his hand, caught it in his palm, began working his hips faster and faster, eyes never moving from the camera, until he rammed his hips into Colton's with a cry of his own, closed his eyes tightly, rode out his own climax.  
  
They seemed to float there for a moment, shaking, barely staying on their knees, before Phil opened his eyes. Colton opened his next. And, as they watched each other, Phil lifted his hand to his mouth and lapped up every drop of Colton's cum. Colton flicked his eyes all over Phil's face with a shiver, and he welcomed it when Phil leaned in for a kiss and dipped his tongue into the kid's mouth.  
  
The screen went black, but Elise couldn't stop staring. Couldn't even begin to think of looking away. Hot tears were pouring down her cheeks, but she thought if she uncurled from her ball even for a second she might rip into a thousand pieces, and no one would be able to put her together again.  
  
Somewhere in the background the YouTube video finished its buffering, and she heard Phil's sensual growl as he sang. "One night and one more time.  
  
"Thanks for the memories, even though they weren't so great.  
  
"He tastes like you, only sweeter..."


End file.
